


hymn to the flames

by radovanryn



Series: celestine & hyacinth [2]
Category: Kingdom Hearts (Video Games)
Genre: 8 Days of Axel, Angst, Character Study, Domestic Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Introspection, M/M, Master Isa AU, Multi, Paganism, Piercings, Romance, Sequel, Tattoos, fic anthology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:28:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24963040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radovanryn/pseuds/radovanryn
Summary: A compilation of all my #8DaysofAxel (2020) stories inspired by the following prompts: Picking up strays; Sunsets; Missions; Fave AU; Apologies; Icky jobs; Vacation/Day off; and Bonus (tattoos/piercings).Wherein Axel discovers one does not need heart to regret, and Lea begs forgiveness;Axel gives in, and Lea comes home;and there is nothing that cannot be symbolized with plant and flower metaphors.
Relationships: Axel/Demyx (Kingdom Hearts), Isa/Lea (Kingdom Hearts)
Series: celestine & hyacinth [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1806781
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20
Collections: Keyblade Master Isa AU





	1. {Picking Up Strays} To Have, And To Hold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [viiixel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/viiixel/gifts).



> I'd like to start by wishing wish Drea ([@viiixel on Twitter](https://twitter.com/viiixel) and [@viiixel on AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/viiixel/pseuds/viiixel)) the happiest of birthdays, and also many thanks for hosting another successful #8DaysOfAxel event! It was so much fun to participate in this year's event, which you can learn more about by visiting: [](https://sites.google.com/view/8daysofaxel/home)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Post-KH3 LeaIsa, spoilers for Re:Mind, originally posted on Twitter, 6/21/20.)
> 
> This story follows a drablet I wrote in January, which you can find here: [Untitled Lea+Kairi friendship drabble](https://twitter.com/radovanryn/status/1223422601739100160). Oh, and incidentally: Happy Father’s Day, Lea (& Isa) Kingdomhearts. ;)

Isa looks up as the front door opens and shuts, the deadbolt flipped as Lea carelessly tosses his keys onto the counter. He’s out of his chair by the time Lea’s toeing off his boots, and there to help Lea shrug out of his jacket—Isa knows that if left to his own devices, Lea’s just as likely to drop it on the floor rather than hang it up.

“Hope you like pastels,” Lea says as he hands Isa his gummiphone, striding past his fiancé and into their cramped office-cum-living room. Space in Twilight Town is at a premium, and their three-bedroom cottage can barely contain the pair, as well as the three teenagers Lea’s adopted as his— _their_ —own. Isa often finds himself wistfully thinking about Radiant Garden, and all the gorgeous two- and three-story homes the Restoration Committee has constructed, but alas, Roxas and Xion are particularly attached to this quiet little world. And now that Lea’s begun taking courses, there’s little chance they’ll be moving back, _back home_ , anytime soon.

Sighing, Isa gives a cursory glance over the many photographs Lea took. He recognizes hellebores and galanthus, as well as an evergreen sprig lined with delicate pink blossoms that he’s never seen before. “And hey,” Lea calls from the next room, “I ran into this magic… gnome, or somethin’, who says he can make us these enchanted ice decanters that won’t melt if you’re interested.”

Isa nods, forwarding a few promising pictures to his own gummiphone for later categorization and filing. He wanders into the family room, gaze still fixed on the device. “I’ll speak with the planner, and see what his thoughts are,” he replies, distracted as usual by his mental to-do list, which seems longer than ever these days. One would not think _wedding planning_ was comparable to orchestrating the Organization’s clandestine activities, and yet somehow, between the caterers and the invitations and the venue and— Well, it is.

A few minutes pass before Isa becomes aware of the unnatural silence. Usually Lea is a flurry of giddy movement and anxious energy, so when Isa glances up, only to spot Lea watching him with an odd expression on his face, he frowns and pockets his phone. Lea may be smiling, but Isa can see the red rimming his eyes and the slight puffiness in his cheeks.

Planners and craftspersons can wait; Lea is  _not okay._

“How was your visit?” Isa asks, careful to keep his voice even. Neutral. Lea prefers to downplay his own emotions for the sake of others, and if Isa betrays even a _hint_ of concern Lea will immediately shut down, forcing a smile and cracking a joke.

Lea averts his eyes as he unloads his knapsack, movements slow and purposeful as he sets each heavy textbook and half-filled notebook on his old apprentice’s desk, acquired with the few personal belongings of theirs that had survived The Fall. Rather than resume his education, Isa has instead dedicated his energies toward personal fulfillment and his found family. He’s taken the odd job here and there, but with the compensation (Isa rather thinks of it as _hazard pay_ ) Ansem the Wise pays them, munny is never any concern. And, after a decade of filing endless reports and attending tedious meetings—not to mention upsetting a plot to end existence altogether—Isa never wants so much as to _sign his name_ ever again.

Meanwhile, Isa frets that Lea is running himself ragged in his fervor to resume his studies, rushing forward in a fruitless search for answers. Although he thinks it admirable that Lea wants to do whatever he can to assist in the collective efforts to retrieve Sora, Lea’s unrealistic expectation that he will master all the knowledge this world, and many others, has accumulated on memories in a mere handful of _months_ is slowly wearing him down.

“Lea?” Isa prompts, coming closer. His fiancé exhales shakily, then lets his hair down from the messy bun he’d thrown it in this morning, disheveled red locks tumbling down past his shoulder blades. For the first time since he’s known him, Lea’s hair is much longer than Isa’s, which he cut short at the onset of Twilight Town’s dreadful, humid, and blisteringly-hot summer season.

(Was it any wonder Isa wants a _winter_ ceremony?)

“Oh, _Lea,_ ” Isa murmurs, and that’s all it takes; Lea’s shoulders shake as he brings his hand to his mouth, muffling the sobs that spill past his lips. Isa doesn’t hesitate to pull Lea into his arms, mindless of the warm tears that soak his high collar as Lea buries his face into Isa’s neck.

Lea must’ve visited Radiant Garden, and therefore, Kairi. Lea has said little about the timeless weeks and months he spent with the Princess of Heart, but it’s clear to Isa that Lea had forged a powerful connection with the girl that was different, but no less real than the ones he formed with Roxas, Xion, and Naminé. Sometimes, Isa wonders if Lea’s taken Kairi’s absence harder than Riku, who at the very least is actively searching for Sora.

Isa swallows heavily. Lea, and _Axel_ before him, has been made to watch helplessly as, one after another, his dearest friends have drifted away. And, for one who lives by the refrain _‘don’t wait, act,_ ’ that has been tantamount to torture.

Minutes pass. Slowly, sobbing gives way to hiccups, and Isa’s thumb rubs circles onto Lea’s back. When Lea finally speaks, his voice is hoarse. “Sorry, dunno what came over me.”

Regrettably, Isa allows Lea to pull away so that he can collect himself. Lea swipes the tears off his cheeks with the long sleeves of his shirt, and it’s only then that Isa notices how dark the circles underneath his eyes have gotten. Perhaps they’re in need of a vacation _before_ the honeymoon, he thinks, already plotting out how he’ll discreetly contact Lea’s instructors and make all the arrangements without his partner knowing.

“You know, I don’t consider this a burden,” Isa says, gently taking Lea’s hand into his own. “You are my lover, and I intend to spend the rest of my life with you. If something has upset you, I want to know what it is—” _So that I can ensure it never hurts you again,_ Isa mentally appends.

Lea smiles, and brings Isa’s knuckles to his lips so that he can press a chaste kiss to them. The gesture is devastatingly romantic, and were it not for the tears still dewing Lea’s eyes, Isa might have allowed himself to be seduced. However—

“Tell me what’s troubling you,” Isa pleads, cupping Lea’s heated cheek with his free hand. “After all, isn’t it _you_ who is always going on _and on_ that I should, oh, what is it—”

“Accept that you have emotions, now, and that the key to psychological well-being is acknowledging, processing, and expressing how you feel,” Lea snarks, leaning ever-so-slightly into Isa’s touch. “What, didn’t get it _memorized?_ ”

“You’re deflecting,” Isa returns, thumb brushing across the same spot where once, years ago, he’d charmed Lea’s tears away. How _foolish_ they’d been, he thinks. Even their emotional baggage is a joyous thing, proof that they’ve hearts again.

“So, you _did_ get it— Yeah, fine.” Lea sighs. “You remember how you said, I don’t even know how long ago, that I was always ‘picking up strays’?”

Isa nods; that _does_ sound like something he would have said, when he was younger and insecure about his grip on Lea’s affections.

“I don’t _mean_ to, y’know. It’s just, I hate to see anyone sad.” Despite himself, Isa smiles. They’ve changed, of course—the passage of time and the hell they’ve been through, together and apart, has scarred them both, in more ways than one. And yet, at his core Lea’s remained the same.

“But I— I’m so _tired_ of missing my friends, Isa,” Lea adds, and he _sounds_ it; voice quiet and rough, as though it’s taking all his energy to express himself. Instinctively, Isa widens his stance and brings Lea closer; he will gladly shoulder the burden, to hold Lea as his erstwhile love tries to solve all the world’s problems. “I just want to help them, is all.”

“You _are,_ Lea,” Isa says, and when Lea opens his mouth in protest, he goes on. “Consider all you have given them: a shoulder to cry on, a friend to laugh with, answers to their questions when they are uncertain, and strength for when they are scared. A _guardian_ , in every meaning of the word.”

More tears slip down Lea’s cheeks. “Isa—”

“Hush,” he interrupts. “I don’t say it often, since your ego is big enough as is,” at this, Lea chuckles. “What you have done, and who you are? It’s enough, Lea. And I—” Suddenly nervous, Isa glances away, whispering, “I love you.”

“H-hey! Save some of that for the wedding, man,” Lea says, but he’s drawing Isa closer, until his temple rests against his fiancé’s. “I love you, too, and… uh,” there’s another quick press of Lea’s lips, this time to Isa’s own reddened cheek. “Thanks.”

“Yes, well,” Isa’s eyes slip shut, as he basks in the warmth of Lea’s embrace. “You won’t get it out of me a second time.”


	2. {Sunsets} Heartbreaker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pre-KH1 (approx. ~7-8 years post-BBS) AkuDem, with AkuSai implied. (Originally posted on Twitter, 6/22/20.)

“You didn’t bring me here to, uh,  _ axe _ me, right?”

Despite his missing heart, Axel balked at the question and the seriousness with which it’d been asked. Granted, he didn’t know Nine well—the musician had only joined the Organization a month, maybe two earlier—but he wouldn’t have pegged the guy as the paranoid type. Since when had _Axel_ knocked off a fellow member?

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Axel scoffed, drawing his leg up to rest against the clock tower’s ledge. “Why’d I drag you all the way out here if I was gonna do that? And besides—” Axel pointed a single, accusatory finger in Demyx’s direction, ignoring how the younger Nobody _yelped_ in shock, “—who gave ya that idea, huh?”

“We-e-ll, Xigbar…” Axel scowled; _that figured_ , the Freeshooter was always causin’ him trouble. “I heard him call you the ‘Axe-man,’ and you know, you’re supposed to be this assassin or whatever. And, _I know_ I don’t always finish my missions but I’m still getting used to all this, and I’m sure if you gave me one more chance I’ll—”

Axel interrupted Demyx’s fearful rambling. “What? Didn’t anyone explain it to you?” Obviously, judging by Demyx’s stare, they had not. Axel sighed. “ _Axel’s_ just an anagram, y’know? A-X-E-L. Just like _Demyx_. It’s not your real name, like what your Somebody had.”

“It’s not?”

_ Jeez, where’d they dig up  _ this _guy?_ Axel thought. Demyx was the first member they’d recruited who hadn’t been one of Ansem the Wise’s apprentices… hell, Axel didn’t even know which _world_ Xigbar’d found him in, although he was pretty sure it wasn’t Radiant Garden (or Hollow Bastion, as it was now called).

“Well then,” Demyx said, “If you didn’t bring me out here to, uh, you know,”—he crossed his arms across his chest in a crude mimicry of the deceased—“then why? It’s not like we’re friends, I mean, we’ve never _ever_ hung out, not once!”

“I, I just—” Axel stammered, not wanting to admit that he’d been _lonely_ , or whatever sort of not-loneliness he was remembering from when he’d been human. You’d think a heartless Nobody like him wouldn’t care what Demyx thought, but perhaps Axel had been more unsettled by Saïx calling it quits than he knew. After all, he and Is— _Saïx_ had been together for so long, they didn’t need to speak in order to know what the other was thinking. Or, at least, that was how it _used_ to be…

_ Whatever.  _ Axel wasn’t used to small talk anymore, that’s all it was.

“Look, I come here sometimes after a long mission,” he said, draping his arm over his knee. He stared at the setting sun, mindless of how it stung his eyes. “Beats headin’ back to the Castle, y’know what I mean?”

“Totally.” An awkward silence followed, Demyx fidgeting with one of his drawstrings. If Axel didn’t know any better he’d have said the guy looked _nervous_.

“So, uh, you come up here a lot?” Demyx asked, then blanched, hands waving frantically as he quickly added, “No, wait! That sounded like a cheesy pickup line, but I swear, I was just asking!”

Axel smirked, and almost quipped that it wouldn’t have bothered him if Nine _was_ giving him a line. Yet Axel _thought_ before he spoke, for once, and spared himself the not-embarrassment of sounding _that_ desperate. Or, pathetic. Instead, he shrugged and said, “Not _a lot_ , I guess. If Saïx figured out I’ve been avoiding reports for a little ‘me’ time, I’d never get another day off.”

“ _Ugh_ , Saïx. What a jerk!” Demyx exclaimed, and Axel bit his cheek to keep himself from laughing bitterly. _Oh_ , but Demyx had _no idea…_ “Why’s he gotta be so high-n-mighty all the time?”

“Guess the attitude comes with the gig,” Axel replied, sourly. “He’s a real up-and-comer, Saï. Before long, he’ll be Xemnas’s right-hand man, I’ll bet.” After all, just because Saïx was finished with Axel didn’t mean they’d abandon their shared objectives; or, so Saïx had decided. Not that Axel had much say in the matter, since every argument inevitably ended with Saïx chiding him, _You act as if you still_ care _, Lea, when we both know you are incapable of caring for anyone, except perhaps yourself._

“Aw man, not _him_ ,” Demyx whined, jarring Axel from his thoughts. “What’s up with that, anyway? Aren’t the numbers supposed to mean something?”

“Oh, those? Nah, ‘bout the only one of us who thinks that is Vexen.” Of course, it was more complicated than that, but then again it wasn’t Axel’s job to keep tabs on office politics.

“Then, what’s the point?” Demyx asked. Axel had to look away to keep himself from smiling. _Who knows, Nine? Who knows…_ “Besides,” Demyx went on, “you do twice as much for the Organization as Scar-head. If anyone’s gonna be second-in-command, it ought to be you!”

Axel laughed. He couldn’t help it; there was just something about Demyx that brought memories of helpless giggling and wide, toothy grins to the surface. He smiled so much his cheeks hurt, unused to the expression after so long. “You’re somethin’ else,” he said, setting his hand on the blonde’s shoulder. Demyx jumped at the sensation, likely unused to any friendly touches since he joined the Organization. Axel squeezed Demyx’s shoulder lightly, a wordless gesture of goodwill.

He’d forgotten what it was like just… to _touch_ someone.

“Hey, uh, Axel?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you, um, single?” Axel looked at Demyx, eyebrow cocked in not-surprise. He’d never, not once (not even when he’d been human) been asked that question. If Axel could, he would have felt kinda… _sad_ , that he couldn’t return those feelings, which Demyx couldn’t possibly have in the first place. Whoever Demyx’s Somebody was, he’d probably be the sort of guy Axel’s Other might’ve been into, once upon a time.

“We’re Nobodies, Demyx,” Axel replied. “We can’t _have_ relationships.”

“ _What?_ Why not?” Demyx twisted around until he was facing Axel, fingers gripping the cement lip of the outcrop. Axel tried not to notice how _close_ his fingers were, very nearly brushing his thigh.

“Gotta have a heart for one of those,” he said, angling his shoulders toward Demyx, too.

The blonde scoffed. “Oh yeah? Well, I’m not buyin’ it. Who says we can’t like other people... or uh, Nobodies, huh?”

Axel chuckled humorlessly. “It doesn’t need to be said, Dem.” The nickname had slipped out, unconsciously. _Weird._ Axel wasn’t in the habit of handing out nicknames, like Xigbar. _Guess the new guy’s not so bad, after all,_ he thought, then said, “That’s just how it is.”

“Then, if I didn’t like you, why else would I wanna do _this?_ ”

Before Axel could react, Demyx surged forward and kissed him. Axel’s eyes flew open, stunned despite how chaste the kiss was; much more hesitant and sweetly shy than Axel was accustomed to. And yet, it wasn’t unpleasant… kinda the opposite, actually. Demyx’s lips were thinner, but less chapped than— Well. It was nice, _good_ even.

Demyx started to pull away, but Axel unthinkingly followed, unwilling to let the moment end just yet. He deepened the kiss, parted lips moving against Demyx’s until he coaxed them open. One of them—Axel couldn’t say,  _ didn’t care who _ —moaned, the soft, quiet noise muffled between their mouths. 

Demyx tasted like seawater and spearmint, mild yet refreshing. Axel shifted his hips until he knelt beside Demyx, and cupped Nine’s angular face in both hands. He pressed closer. It had been _weeks_ , and Axel had never, not once in his (non)existence, had such a long dry spell. And Demyx was a trooper, just as eager as Axel. Their tongues slid past each other’s as the kiss went on and on _and on_. It was messy, a bit sloppy, too, but Axel didn’t mind; it was _fun_ , and if he had a heart he would’ve enjoyed it…

Eventually, they parted. Demyx’s lips were puffy and wet, and he was smiling. Axel, just as disheveled, couldn’t help but return his grin. His hands fell from Demyx’s face as Axel sat back on his heels, although Demyx’s remained on his thighs, a slight-yet-reassuring weight.

“Whoa,” Demyx said, and Axel huffed out a laugh. “You shoulda told me that you liked me, too! Man, I was so nervous, ‘cause I could’ve sworn you and Saï—”

“It’s fine,” Axel interrupted. “Wouldn’t mind a repeat performance either, if you’re game.”

Axel never considered it before, but in hindsight it seemed _so obvious_. Who said Axel needed to hang around until Saïx saw reason? Besides, it wasn’t as if either of them could be jealous, and Demyx was a pretty good-lookin’ guy, himself. Maybe he wouldn’t mind helping Axel blow off some steam every now and again?

Almost as if he’d read Axel’s mind, Demyx pumped his fist in the air. “Awesome!” he exclaimed. “It’s a date. Hey, does that mean I can tell everyone you’re my boyfriend?”

“Sure, whatever,” Axel replied as he leaned back in. If it made Nine not-happy, why not? Besides, Axel didn’t have the heart ( _heh_ ) to remind him that they were Nobodies—

—and Nobodies couldn’t go on dates, or have boyfriends or relationships. Or love, because you need a heart for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s unclear when Demyx “joined” the Organization, but based on KH2 Final Mix cutscenes it’s implied that Marluxia (11) was recruited shortly before KH1, and by implication (Xemnas’s dialogue in KH3), not long after Luxord (10) and Demyx (9). Following that, this story is set approximately 7-8 years after BBS. (Axel is ~ 22/23, Demyx is ~20/21). In other words, _please release an official timeline with dates and character ages Square/Nomura I am begging you..._


	3. {Missions} Also-Ran

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Post-KH3, Lea character introspection + hinted Sea Salt family, originally posted on Twitter, 6/23/20.)
> 
> **Content Warning:** Semi-graphic descriptions of an anxiety attack, and general themes of depression, self-loathing, and destructive fantasies. Please read at your own discretion.

**_Also-ran_** _, n. an undistinguished or unsuccessful person or thing._

“Anyone need anything from the market?”

Twin voices call out from the depths of the old mansion: “Ice cream!” they shout, accompanied by Isa’s far more sedate, “Flour.” Lea grins as he pockets his wallet, although an observer would probably think he was grimacing. The redhead jangles his keys, fingers twitchy with restless nerves as he mutters to himself, repeating his short shopping list once, twice, three times until he’s _got it memorized_.

“Got it!” he calls, then, “See ya!”

He leaves before anyone has a chance to wish him _good-bye_. Not unusual, for Lea.

The path between the mansion and Market Street is long and winding, still littered with Heartless months after Xehanort’s defeat. Most days, it’s easier to use the Corridors to slip in and out of town; with the exception of Roxas’s (and now, Xion’s) friends, no one knows they’re here. As far as Twilight Town’s denizens are concerned, the Old Mansion sits vacant, save for its ghosts.

However, Lea’s felt cagey all day, so he decides to take the road into town. So what if a couple Heartless show up along the way? Isn’t that what the keyblade’s _for_ , above all else? Besides, Lea figures he could use the extra practice. After all—

_Is this supposed to be a keyblade? Or is it some sort of joke?_

For a brief moment, Lea summons his keyblade, Flame Liberator, before casting it aside with a scowl. Once, he’d been so _proud_ of it, the weapon no one believed Lea could forge—a weapon few thought he deserved. Now, Lea can hardly stand to see it, much less use it. Isa, no, _Saïx_ had been right; the Guardians must’ve been _desperate_ to consider Lea among their number.

_It’s foolishness… and lunacy._

Like the winding trail before him, Lea’s thoughts wander down ever-darker paths. Looking back, it all seems so _pointless_. Absurd, even. Lea hadn’t lifted a _finger_ to save his friends, heck, even _Demyx_ did more to bring Roxas and Xion back. 

_Your keyblade is no more. And still you think you can play at being a guardian of light?_

_You can wait your turn…_ also-ran.

Lea fumes, misplaced indigity curling his fingers around absent steel crossbars. His thoughts are naught but screams, the visceral thrill he’d been unable to feel as Axel a shot of adrenaline like fire in his veins. After all he’d done, the blood he’d spilled and the bodies he’d burned, he— _Axel_ —had been tossed aside, deemed unworthy. How could Xemnas call _Lea_ a traitor of darkness when he hadn’t even—

_Ever the rogue pawn. Knocked from the board early in the game._

“That’s enough,” Lea scolds himself, disgusted. How many nights has he lain awake, holding Xion and Isa as they tremble and weep from the nightmares Xehanort’s possession left them? He should be _grateful_ he’d been spared that fate, just as he should fall to his knees in gratitude that Kingdom Hearts or the Light or _whomever_ saw him fit to wield the keyblade. Lea doesn’t deserve it.

He doesn’t deserve _any_ of it.

Not the birthdays nor the holidays, or even the unremarkable evenings spent lazing around with no missions save for a quick grocery run.All Lea’s ever done is put on a show, chest puffed out with false bravado as the world burns to ashes all around him, until he’s all that’s left standing unscathed.

_I thought… you outgrew the marks under your eyes._

_You look like you need them._

A loud _crack_ pierces through the woodland din, and Lea _screams_ as he mindlessly unleashes a seething miasma of molten rage. It explodes from him in all directions, so loud he cannot hear the Heartless shriek before they fade, leaving only ash and dust. Grass vaporizes as leaves and branches high above him catch fire, burning bright and hot. Lea watches with glazed-over eyes, and for a moment he thinks, _let it burn._

All the jittery energy Lea’s been holding onto _for hours_ evaporates, leaving him weak-kneed and gasping for breath as warm, salty tears begin streaming down his cheeks. His head is _pounding_ , and for the first time in his life the smoke chokes him. He can’t breathe, there’s not enough air. He douses the flames with a shaky gesture, but that only makes it _worse_ as he forces the inferno back inside.

Lea staggers off the path, propping himself up against a scraggly old tree as he clutches his chest, heart racing as if he’s just run a marathon. He never used to be like _this_ , choking on anxiety and dread like it’s thick black tar painted across his insides. He thinks… _he remembers_ that he used to be happy and carefree, running wild with Isa, scraped-up knees and sunburnt cheeks, stealing sweet kisses underneath a canopy of twinkling stars. Lea coughs, and it’s like his throat’s lined with razors for how much it hurts just to _breathe_.

_I shoulda been there for you by now, but here we are._

Lea is so, so, _so tired._

Time must pass, not that Lea can tell; in the world of eternal sunset, it always looks the same. But eventually, Lea musters the strength to stand again, angrily swiping the remaining wetness from his heated cheeks. His eyes burn with unshed tears, but Lea swallows them down alongside the humiliationthat burns his throat like acid.

“G-get it together, man,” he mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. So far, Lea’s been lucky; he hasn’t had one of these… _freak outs_ , as he’s taken to calling them, in front of anyone else. _Yet._ He figures it’s only a matter of time; hell, it’s a miracle it hasn’t already happened, but the others, _his best friends_ , they’re all dealing with their own issues. And _really_ , what gives Lea the right to get all worked up when he had it easier than anyone? After all, _Lea_ was never a vessel, _Lea_ was never shoved deep inside someone’s heart, _Lea_ was just—

_Utterly useless, and forgotten._

The Dark Corridor all-but _leaps_ from Lea’s outstretched fingers, hazy smoke billowing from its edges. Lea steps through the portal on shaky legs, right into the mansion’s once-luxurious kitchen. From experience, Lea knows the overwhelming smell of dust and rotted wood will hide any lingering stench of soot and darkness. He finds Isa, grimacing as he ponders the very-nearly empty pantry, and teases, “Careful. Your face might get stuck that way.”

His voice wavers, but not much. Lea’s still good. He’s still… _good._

Isa glances over his shoulder, and although his glowering fades, it’s instead replaced by a look of absolute exasperation. “Tell me you didn’t forget the flour,” he grumbles, dark circles prominent from night after sleepless night.

Lea grimaces, and deep inside, the flames stir. He huffs out a laugh, and is mildly shocked not to see smoke staining his breath. “Whoops,” he says, forcing a rictus grin. “Guess I didn’t get it memorized.”


	4. {Fave AU: Master Isa AU} Hymn to the Flames

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ficlet was inspired by Ari ([@xigithy](https://twitter.com/xigithy)), who brilliantly suggested a songfic based on [Hozier’s “Arsonist’s Lullaby”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XoQvbDROucQ) in the Master Isa AU. 
> 
> It’s hard to imagine the Master Isa AU is a year old already!!! It’s an absolute gem, and what got me into the KH fandom. All credit and thanks to Nic ([@saixbosom](https://twitter.com/saixbosom)) for creating this fantastical “what-if?” universe, and to Ari, whose [“The Subtle Grace of Gravity”](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19780879) is a constant source of inspiration and emotional pain. This ficlet is set in that world, and follows the most recent chapter (Chapter 9), so I heartily recommend you read her story first to better understand this one.

“Hey, Axel?” It’s just the two of them; Roxas hasn’t seen Xion in days, and his mysterious friend Lea  _ never _ comes when Axel’s around. It bothers Roxas that his friends are never together all at once, not like those kids he always sees running around Twilight Town. It makes his chest feel funny, sorta  _ hot _ and  _ stuffy _ in a way that makes Roxas uncomfortable.

“ _Hmm?_ ” Axel’s chewing on his stick, ice cream long-finished. His eyes are half-shut, and for once he looks calm, _relaxed_ as he stares into the everlasting sunset.

Roxas thinks he ought to be glad Axel showed. The redhead’s been gone an awful lot, always out on some top-secret mission for Xemnas, and even when he’s back— sometimes, it’s like Axel’s not all there, like his mind is far, far away.

(Xion told Roxas she heard Axel screaming in his room. _I think he was alone,_ she said. _If he was hurt on his mission, why wouldn’t he tell us?_ )

Roxas frowns. There’s a lot Axel—

—Xion—

—and Lea aren’t telling him.

“Why fire?”

“Huh?” Axel’s bright, golden eyes lazily focus on Roxas as he pops the chewed-up wooden stick out of his mouth. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s just—” Roxas hadn’t _meant_ to ask that, it just sorta popped out all of a sudden. But the more he thinks about it, “Each member of the Organization has something that’s… special about them. That’s what you told me and Xion.”

Axel smirks, but it’s softer than usual. He doesn’t smile like this often, but Roxas likes it when he does; it makes his friend look younger, less on-edge. Almost _happy_ , if such a thing existed for Nobodies, such as they are. “Got it memorized, did ya?” Axel teases, jostling Roxas in the side with one of his bony elbows.

Roxas shoves Axel back, which has the older Nobody cackling delightedly. Axel can be a jerk, and although Roxas doesn’t like to admit it, is absolutely _terrifying_ at times, but it’s moments like these that have Roxas convinced that underneath it all, Axel’s a good friend to have. The two of them laugh together, just like those kids always do.

Eventually, however, Roxas remembers what he wanted to talk to Axel about. “I’ve been thinking, and you know how everyone in the Organization’s got different powers that they use with their weapons? But,” Roxas looks down, brow furrowed in thought. “I didn’t choose the keyblade. Or Light.” Axel winces, his lips curling back in a vicious sneer. Axel hates keyblades for some reason, although he’s never told Roxas and Xion why that is.

“Not sure I get where this is goin’,” Axel says, slowly. His flaxen eyes flash, and a thin wisp of smoke rises up from the wooden stick in-between his fingers. The hair on the back of Roxas’s neck prickles strangely, a weird reaction that Roxas gets sometimes around Axel, and less often, Xion. He has no idea what it means, but like that bizarre feeling he gets in his chest, he doesn’t like how it feels.

“I just wanna know, why’d the keyblade choose me?” Roxas asks, resting his hands in his lap, mindless of the ice cream that’s steadily melting down his fingers.

“‘Fraid I don’t have an answer for you, Rox,” Axel replies, but Roxas isn’t surprised. Of all of them, Axel knows the least about keyblades. Not even Lea knows why Roxas and Xion were chosen, and he’s a keyblade _master_.

There’s so much Roxas doesn’t know.

“My Other—” Roxas startles; he didn’t expect Axel to say anymore, especially not anything about before he joined the Organization. Like keyblades, Axel loathes his memories from when he was human, which bothers Roxas deeply. He’d give _anything_ to remember his life before this— maybe he’d been like those kids, always running around and laughing with his friends? The sun glints off an errant bit of metal, catching Roxas off-guard and—

_ —ra! Giving up already? _

“He liked fire.” Axel’s voice brings Roxas _back_ , back from… whatever _that_ was. “He’d spend hours and hours, just… _staring_ into candlelight.”

Roxas shakes his head a little. Whatever it was, it’s gone, now. Instead, Roxas turns to Axel, nose scrunching in distaste. “Sounds boring,” he says.

“Nah, it wasn’t. Trust me.” Axel winks. “You remember when I told you about sunsets, and why they’re always red?” Roxas nods; it’s one of his most cherished memories, and one he couldn’t bear to lose. Like now, it had just been Roxas and Axel, and the older Nobody seemed so at ease as he talked, a small smile curling his lips. Roxas never asked, but he guessed Axel had been remembering something good from his old life that afternoon. Now, however, his eyes hold none of that soft warmth, and his mouth quirks into a hard, cynical line. Sparks flicker across Axel’s ice cream stick.

“Well, fire’s like that,” Axel adds. “It’s the heart of every star, and the first light that ever existed. It’s powerful, Roxas. Like nothing you could ever imagine.”

Roxas doubts that. Even though he doesn’t _understand_ the keyblade, Roxas knows it’s powerful. It must be, to collect hearts and gather them into the great Kingdom Hearts. Still, Axel continues. “The thing is, fire’s honest. Pure. Too much, and it’ll dry the oceans and burn the forests to the ground. But without it, there’d be nothing but cold—” Axel’s voice goes quiet, but his eyes burn brightly. “And dark.”

_ Dark. _ Roxas has seen Darkness, and dreams of it often: an empty shoreline, still waters, and a _name_ , there on the tip of his tongue… “So, does that mean that you chose to wield fire when you became a Nobody?” he asks.

“Wasn’t a _choice_ , Roxas,” Axel replies, chuckling. But, he doesn’t sound _happy_ , or _calm_ , but rather like he’s on the edge of some other _un_ -emotion, and Roxas’s neck is prickling again. “Listen for once, will ya? Fire, it’s—” The stick cradled in Axel’s hand ignites, tongues of orange, yellow, and blue flame dancing. Axel watches, utterly mesmerized. “It’s not like lightning, or wind, or any of those spells you kids like to throw around. Fire _never_ goes out, but if you don’t control it…”

His voice fades, crackling as it goes silent. The stick has burnt to charcoal, glowing cinders cupped in Axel’s outstretched hands. Roxas doesn’t say it, but he doesn’t think Axel’s got as much control as he probably _thinks_ he does. There are parts of the City that burn endlessly, whole sections that smoke and smolder no matter how many times Saïx sends Demyx out to quell the fire. That, and strange Heartless have taken to following Axel, tiny little creatures with sharp, grasping claws and tears like lava streaming down their soot-stained faces.

_ Forget-Me-Nots _ , Xion calls them. Axel scorches them by the dozens, but still, they keep following him relentlessly.

When Axel speaks again, his voice is hollow, and Roxas gets the strangest sense that Axel isn’t speaking to him anymore. “If you don’t control it, then maybe it goes out. Then, you’ve got _nothing_ — nothing but _ashes_.

“And if you let it out of control, let it run wild…” Axel grins, sinister and cruel, and Roxas thinks it sounds like that’s what Axel _wants_ ; to unleash his Eternal Flames on the world, on _all_ the worlds, until naught but ashes are left in his wake. The scent of smoke that always clings to Axel has gotten stronger, a gasoline stench hanging in the air. “Nah, you’ve got to keep the flames  _ just right _ , and when you’ve got it, it’s  _ perfect _ . Quiet, too, no voices, no screamin’ just—”

The air’s gone hot, stifling, and Roxas wants to run. But _something_ , buried deep inside where he thinks his heart belongs, keeps him still, and begs to know— “What? What is it?”

Axel _jerks_ , twitching like a puppet whose strings were pulled all at once, and like _that_ the temperature drops and the smoke clears. But Axel’s eyes still glow like embers, more orange than gold. “ _Peace_ , Rox,” he whispers, deadly reverent. “Peace like you wouldn’t believe.”

Roxas isn’t sure if _Axel_ even knows he’s lying. (He never gets the chance to ask, either.)


	5. {Apologies} In Memoriam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Post-KH3 + Re:Mind, LeaIsa & Sea Salt Family, originally posted on Twitter, 6/25/20.)
> 
> This oneshot is loosely set in the same universe as my story, [“Healing Light,”](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21114299) although you do not necessarily need to read that in order to read this. I’ve included more nerdy details in the endnotes for anyone who is interested.

The path returned to nature long ago, craggly roots upsetting well-tread dirt as birds and insects sing to one another in the trees above. Darkness still haunts the forest, clinging like stubborn mold to branches and vines. Lea brushes his fingers through an infested thicket, mindless of how the dark nips and scratches at his fingers.

“Sleep,” he murmurs, calling Light to his outstretched fingertips. The dark shivers, then retreats as Lea continues down the path. Maybe someday he’ll bring Roxas and Xion along, and together they’ll cast out whatever Heartless remain, but not today. Lea figures he’s got an hour, maybe two until he needs to head back; he slipped out while Isa and the kids began preparing the Feast of the Dead under the auspices of picking up some wine for later. Isa had given him an inscrutable look, but otherwise said nothing, which Lea appreciates.

After all, he made Isa a promise, and he’s not about to go back on his word. He just needs to… make peace with it— _with them_ —first.

Neither Isa nor Lea ever meant to hide their families from the youngest Nobodies, but privately they admitted it was difficult to talk about their pasts, and everything they had lost when Radiant Garden fell to darkness. However, it was Aeleus who kindly and gently reminded them that Roxas, Xion, and Naminé have lost loved ones as well, and perhaps they would find peace and healing together—as a family.

Thus, as the nights grew longer and the leaves began to turn, Lea and Isa had told them all about Samhuinn—or Calan Gaeaf, as Lea’s family had known it. In quiet, reverent voices, they explained its significance as a time of remembrance and reflection, to honor those who had come before and gone—

_And to ask forgiveness, and guidance for the year to come,_ Isa added.

Yesterday, they’d all worked together to make the altar, each framed photograph carefully hung or placed alongside colorful candles and tokens of remembrance—the leaf tobacco Lea’s grandfather used, a star chart Isa’s littlest sister had drawn for him on his fifteenth birthday, miraculously unscathed amidst the ruins of his childhood home. Xion glued her favorite seashells together into a couple frames, each for a picture Naminé had drawn: one of Sora, standing in a glittering world of endless sea and twinkling stars, and the other of Demyx, Luxord, Marluxia, and Larxene standing together in a quaint little village of purple-roofed homes. (Isa had raised a single eyebrow in unspoken curiosity, to which Lea shrugged; he had no idea, either.)

Isa rose with the sun and visited his family’s plot earlier that morning while Lea led everyone else through the woods to gather wildflowers, which he now holds in a haphazard bouquet as he approaches the twisted, ancient iron gate that leads to his own family’s memorial and… _and..._

_Their grave_ , in spirit if nothing else.

The rusted gate protests loudly as it’s opened, disturbing years’ worth of climbing vines and nettles. Lea remembers how his grandfather—his ma’s father—used to complain every Calan Gaeaf, _blasted thing’s nothin’ but a nuisance, I oughta take it out one ‘a these days._ Lea lays a hand over the old man’s granite marker, the one he’d picked out for himself _years_ before he actually passed.

“Oughta take it out, one of these days,” Lea murmurs, grinning despite himself. He makes a mental note to tell the kids that story once he’s back home, so that once Lea’s had his turn and it’s _them_ visiting _him_ , they’ll know to keep the tradition alive. He whispers a soft prayer over the grave, then moves on to the next marker.

**Lea. Mother to One, and All.**

It’s one of Lea’s earliest memories, seeing _his name_ on a gravestone. His grandfather had still been alive, and was across the thicket with his ma, honoring the forgotten elders whose own markers had long-since returned to nature. And so, it had fallen to Lea’s mom to explain to her four-year-old son what a _namesake_ was. Unlike Lea’s ma, who was an idealistic country girl at heart, his mom had come from a prestigious line of scholars and architects, and her decision to work as a lowly engineer for the _King of Radiant Garden_ was considered a _disappointment_. (Suffice it to say, Lea never knew most of his mom’s family— _and good riddance!_ his ma would add.)

Although Lea’s mom was kind, if more reserved than her boisterous wife and child, she was about as adept at speaking to children as _Even_ , so it was unsurprising that by the time Lea’s ma and grandfather found them he was in hysterics, convinced that he was destined to turn into a big lumpy _rock_ , all alone in the family grounds with no one to play with.

“You old crone,” he says with a laugh, plucking an iris from the bunch to leave with her. “I’ll bet you thought that was hilarious, huh?” Then, just like his ma had taught him (once he’d cried himself out, that is), Lea kneels beside the marker and traces her name— _his name_ —with a single finger as he whispers, “ _Lâwaen nain._ ”

Lea will need his grandmother’s guidance for what comes next.

Slowly, he stands and heads deeper into the glade. Most Radiant Garden families have forgotten the Old Ways, embracing science over sorcery; these days, most Gardenites have their ashes interred in the vast memorial gardens, and their children and children’s children treat the Feast like any other holiday. Cemeteries like this are few and far between, and over time most have overgrown. It drives Isa nuts, and Lea’s certain he’ll hear all about it later, once the kids have gone to bed and the wine’s loosened his lips. No doubt they’ll be tearing out all manner of viney saplings and rotted branches come spring, but Lea’s family has always been peculiar, even among the old-timers. His ma had been the first in several generations to leave the outer villages, and used to gripe endlessly at how _neat_ and _polished_ Radiant Garden was by comparison.

_C’mere Lea! Now,_ this _is what I’m talkin’ about!_

Here, the trees are ancient, covered in moss and wide leaves that have only just begun to turn. Ma _always_ dragged him here on Calan Gaeaf, passing him a handful of seeds she’d stolen from Aerith’s grandmother at the market. _Let’s see which’ll make it,_ she’d tell him, and together they’d toss the pilfered seeds onto the soft earth. Despite all the terrible things that have happened to Radiant Garden since he last visited, Lea still recognizes the lisianthus, sweet peas, and astilbe they’d planted together.

This was his ma’s favorite place in the whole plot, and so it’s where Lea laid them to rest.

Their memorial is different from all the rest, glittering iron pyrite inlaid with moonstone and a shallow pool in front, fed by a small, gurgling spring Lea and his ma discovered _ages_ ago. Lea drops to his knees, and dips the flowers, buds and petals, into the cistern before shaking the excess droplets across the stone edifice.

“ _Ayra’adleg fy nâyyrae_ ,” he murmurs, managing even the trickiest syllables of this dead language, spoken by his ancestors’ ancestors before the kingdom even existed. _That’s how we’ll know to listen,_ his grandfather once explained. _It’s not restin’ in peace if we’re stuck listenin’ to yer yammerin’ day in and day out, got it?_

And yet, his words ring hollow as warm tears roll down his cheeks; Lea cannot honor the prayer’s promise to not weep for the dead. He drops the bouquet in the pool, watching the bundle split apart into a colorful array of floating blossoms as he curls his legs beneath him so that he can sit beside his mothers’ gravesite.

“Man, what’s there to say?” he says, averting his eyes from their names, engraved alongside another promise: **You’ll never be forgotten** _._ “Y’know, I don’t think Roxas and Xion really get it. You shoulda seen them, they kept askin’ me and Isa how talking to a rock is supposed to make anyone feel better. A _rock_ , can you believe it?” He chuckles, dragging his hand through the pool to mess with the flowers. “They’re smart kids, they’ll figure it out soon enough. And Naminé? She picked it up, right off the bat.

“You, you w-would’ve loved them.” Lea swallows down the lump in his throat, ignoring the fresh tears that have begun to spill over. Isa, after he’d returned from his own pilgrimage red-eyed and shaken, had asked Lea if he wanted his charms today, but Lea’d said no—it didn’t feel right, not this time. _Not like this._

Still, Lea manages to go on. “I still c-can’t believe it. Me ‘n Isa, bringin’ up three kids. _Three!_ Guess we must’ve taken after his side, _heh_ , right?” After all, diviners are notorious for their large families, unsurprising given their ability to foresee when to conceive, adopt or foster. (Although Lea’s never asked, he suspects Saïx might’ve unconsciously continued that tradition… why else would he have assigned _Axel_ , of all Nobodies, babysitting duty?)

“They…” Lea sighs, and pulls both knees up to his chest. He’s a tall guy, but somehow he manages to make himself look smaller than he actually is—no matter how old he is, he’s still a child sitting beside his mothers’ graves. “They should’ve got the chance to m-meet you. I’m, I’m s-sorry…”

And like that, the dam breaks as Lea buries his face in his knees and sobs. It’s deep, gut-wrenching _grief_ that overwhelms him. Grief, that is, and also _regret._

Like Sora, those who passed under the shroud of darkness left no earthly remains behind. Nobodies could be recompleted, of course, but so few had either the strength of will or the presence of mind to create one. As the tides of darkness consumed Radiant Garden, and countless other worlds besides, most were simply… lost.

Lea and Isa had talked about it, of course. Without bodies, there was always a chance, however slim, that there _were_ Nobodies and Heartless that could be destroyed. Hence, they alongside their family and all the other keybearers that could be spared, had gone from world to world doing just that. A few returned—Dilan’s wife among them—but far fewer than they’d hoped.

“T-there’s this kid, this, this other kid,” Lea says, “Riku. He started havin’ these dreams a-about his… friend, I guess.” Lea wheezes, a gasping laugh. “It’s, ah, c-complicated. B-but, Riku thinks he can find him, find Sora, and, a-and—”

The next thing Lea knew, Kairi was locked in an enchanted sleep while Xion and Roxas were working with Ienzo, downloading their memories into a digital world where—apparently— _another_ Sora, Riku, Roxas, and Naminé all existed. (Lea tries to follow along, but it hurts his brain just _thinking_ about it.) Meanwhile, Riku’s been chasing one dead end after another, sometimes going weeks without sending word.

Isa finally snapped when Lea suggested he might join Terra, Ventus, and Aqua on their mission to the Realm of Darkness. _Understand that I am concerned for Sora’s wellbeing as anyone,_ he’d said, legs crossed and arms folded, perched at the foot of their bed, body language defensive. _But I will not sit idly by while you destroy yourself trying to retrieve him._

“The t-thing is, there’s a way to bring you back,” Lea says, swiping fruitlessly at his eyes. “M-maybe. Probably.” He sighs. “Probably not.”

That night—weeks ago, now—Lea had been pacing, unable to sit still for even a second. _What am I supposed to do, Isa?_ he’d shouted. _Just sit here and do nothing?_

Hesitantly, Lea glances up until he’s staring directly at his mothers’ names. “I spent so long chasin’ after people. Xion, Roxas, Isa—” He sighs. “And at the end of the day, I didn’t lift a finger to bring ‘em home. Not really, I mean. Then, I th-thought, this might be it? This could be my second chance to do the right thing.

“To bring you home.”

By bringing Kairi back, Sora had faded from existence. Lea knows what the kid’s done violates nearly _all_ the laws of nature, but Riku _swears_ he’ll find Sora _without_ sacrificing himself, or anyone else. And if _Riku_ can find a way to do it…

_You’ll die._ That’s what Isa told him, his voice thick with restrained emotion. It isn’t often that Isa loses his composure, so Lea’d been stunned to see his lover’s face crumple as he added, _I already lost you once to ghosts. I cannot bear it a second time._

“B-but, I can’t. _I can’t,_ ” Lea sobs, shaking his head as even more tears fall. “Please, _ah… avætyr fi—_ ”

(Forgive me.)

“—but I can’t leave them.”

Lea doesn’t know how Isa does it, seeing him cry as much as he does; when Lea noticed the tell-tale glisten in Isa’s teal eyes, he felt like his heart was being torn from his chest a second time. _Please, please don’t cry, Is,_ he’d said, kneeling beside Isa’s legs and taking both of his lover’s hands into his own. _Tell me what to do. Please, I just need to know what I should do._

Isa’s request was simple. It was also the most he’s ever asked of Lea, but—

“I made a, a promise,” Lea says. “T-that I would stay, and be here. For the kids. For Isa. They… need me to stay and I’m so— I’m _sorry._ ”

For a moment, the glade is still. Silent. Then, a soft breeze picks up, carrying a hint of daffodil and sage. The spring ripples, tiny waves causing a single white tulip to drift closer to Lea, who smiles despite his tears. Lea’s no Seer, but even _he_ can read a sign as clear as this; after all, tulips symbolize forgiveness. He touches the soft petals, and feels warmth in his heart.

“ _Fiolaet_ ,” he whispers, voice thick with gratitude. Lea takes several deep, calming breaths. He closes his eyes, grounding himself in the _here_ and _now_ ; he listens to the birds’ song and the far-off owls’ _hooting_ , feels the mossy earth beneath him and the gentle wind that tousles his hair. At last, he feels like himself again, and importantly, strong enough to make one final promise.

“I can’t bring you back, but I can still make you proud.” He reaches into his pocket, and withdraws a small, folded slip of paper. It’s a picture of his family—Lea, Isa, Xion, Roxas, and Naminé, all holding hands—that he’d asked Naminé to draw. He unfolds it, and drops it into the pool to float alongside the flowers he brought. “I’m gonna do everything I can for them, even if it… Well, you know.” He grins, and rubs the back of his head sheepishly. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.

“And soon, real soon, I’ll bring ‘em out to meet you,” he says. “Besides—” Lea stands slowly, legs awash with pins-and-needles from sitting for so long. He leans down and kisses the rough memorial goodbye, before adding, “they’re your family, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Without breaking out _Illia’s Ye Olde Tome of Lea and Isa Headcanons_ [citation needed], while both Isa and Lea’s families (his ma’s side, at least) were more traditionalist than the average Radiant Garden household, Isa was raised with more structured mysticism than Lea, whose family adhered to more ancient folk traditions. The language Lea uses is, to me, analogous to Latin in Roman Catholicism; he’s definitely not fluent, but knows the basic prayers and a few key phrases. It’s a blend of Welsh, Elvish (Tolkien), and Scotch Gaelic. Finally, all of the flowers and stones/gemstones mentioned were chosen specifically for their associated symbolism, which I’ve tied into the narrative.


	6. {Icky Jobs} Your Turn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Post-KH3 LeaIsa + Sea Salt family shenanigans. Originally posted on Twitter ~May 2020.)
> 
> ....how does it relate to the prompt, you ask? Well, Lea’s decided he’s through taking all the icky jobs. ;)

“Hey, Isa?”

With a barely-restrained sigh, Isa glanced up from his book to acknowledge Roxas, Naminé, and Xion, all of whom were crowded in the kitchen doorway. In the weeks since he’d recompleted, the teenagers had grown on Isa to the extent that he would call them ‘friends’ without hesitation. However, Isa was a creature of habit, and had grown comfortable with his daily routine, which included some desperately-needed quiet time every afternoon when Lea would treat the kids to sea-salt ice cream atop the clock tower. Yet, here it was, barely three o’clock and nary a pesky redhead in sight to distract his wards.

Still, Isa had learned patience the hard way—a combination of his experience in the Organization and being the partner of said flighty redhead—and thus calmly set down his book with just a slight grimace. (No matter what Lea said, Isa refused to be embarrassed that he’d taken to reading romance novels. It was precisely the kind of mundane mindlessness and cheap thrills Isa had so desperately missed as a Nobody… and _damn it_ this one was just starting to get interesting.)

“Yes?”

The three teens shuffled into the kitchen, looking strangely apprehensive. Immediately, Isa was on edge. “What is it?” he asked. “Is it Lea?”

“No… well, kinda,” Roxas admitted, which did nothing for Isa’s mounting anxiety. The blonde awkwardly rubbed the back of his head, a habit no doubt picked up from the aforementioned, and added, “We were at the clock tower, like usual, and then—”

“I asked him a question, and then he got really quiet,” Xion interrupted. She had one hand clenched into a fist over her heart, while the other clutched Naminé’s hand. It still struck Isa on occasion, how _earnest_ Xion was. How could he ever have seen her as nothing but an empty puppet? Each of the former Nobodies were so full of life, and without trying Isa felt the last of his annoyance fade as a small smile graced his features.

“You didn’t ask him about girls again, did you?” Isa lightly teased, having heard the story of Lea, or rather _Axel’s_ disastrous attempt to describe the fairer sex to Roxas. (Isa could barely imagine the word ‘buttons’ without cracking up.) “I’m afraid that topic goes far beyond Lea’s understanding… and mine, admittedly.”

“No, nothing like that,” Xion assured him. “But he _did_ say that we should ask you instead, because, um… oh, what did he say?”

“He said it was a new game he wanted to play,” Naminé said, eyes bright as she squeezed Xion’s hand reassuringly. Xion smiled at the waifish blonde, then turned back to Isa.

“That’s right!” Unconsciously, Isa felt his own smile widen in response. It had not taken him long to understand what Lea—again, _Axel_ —had seen in each of them, even Roxas, who tended to be a bit moodier than the girls. (Admittedly, Roxas’s mood swings reminded Isa an awful lot of his own teenage angst, and he wondered if it wasn’t _just_ Lea’s mannerisms the young man was picking up.) Excitedly, Xion added, “He called it, ‘Your Turn.’”

“I thought it was a strange name,” Naminé confessed, and Isa’s budding good mood dimmed slightly. Why was it that, despite Xion and Naminé’s sincerity, he could _almost_ hear Lea’s merciless teasing in their words?

Truly, Isa _didn’t_ want to know, but being with Lea—in one way or another—for nearly his entire life, Isa, too, had picked up a handful of bad habits, namely _impulsiveness_ and _lack of foresight_. So, hesitantly, he asked, “What… question did you ask him?”

“All I wanted to know what a _bee-jay_ is,” Roxas said, shrugging. “I heard a couple guys at school talk about being ‘bee-jay buddies,’ and, I dunno, what is that?”

For the first time since he reformed, Isa felt his heart skip a beat as his face heated, flushing bright red as Xion oh-so-helpfully added, “Are ‘bee-jay buddies’ like best friends, Isa? Like,” her face squinted up, as though deep in thought. “Should we call best friends ‘bee-eff buddies?”

“Then, what does ‘jay’ stand for?” Naminé asked thoughtfully.

A sudden _thud_ startled each of the teens out of their thoughts, as Isa let his head fall to the kitchen table, the impact only slightly cushioned by the tawdry romance novel he’d been innocently enjoying a few minutes earlier.

_ Your turn _ , he heard, Lea’s cackling laughter echoing in his thoughts.


	7. {Day Off/Vacation} A Year Older Than Yesterday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Post-KH3 domestic LeaIsa + Sea Salt family fluff, originally posted on Twitter, 6/13/20: <https://twitter.com/radovanryn/status/1271827656552701953>)

“ _ Mmm _ , somethin’ smells good,” Lea remarks as he makes his way to the kitchen, hair still damp and curling at the ends from his shower. He stops to stretch, palms flat against either side of the entryway as he takes a deep breath. “Walnuts?”

“Close,” Isa replies. He’s at the stove, frying the eggs he’d bought at the market that morning while Lea lazed about, sleeping well past sunrise. “Hazelnut.”

“And fresh blackberries!” Xion adds. She leaves her mixing bowl behind—a blend of fresh herbs and vegetables, _far_ too much green for Lea’s sea-salty palate—to give Lea her customary ‘good morning’ hug, which he returns fondly. “I picked them myself!”

“Hey, I helped!” Roxas whines. He’s setting the table, laying out mismatched plates and flatware, an aesthetic catastrophe that’s bound to irk Isa—not that he’ll say anything to Roxas. ( _At least he’s learned how to properly use a knife and fork_ , Lea imagines he’d quip, a subtle dig at Axel and his patchy mentorship.)

While still holding onto Xion, Lea leans forward to playfully ruffle Roxas’s hair. “Looks like you’ve all had a busy morning,” he says, laughing as Roxas scowls and tries to bat his hand away. “Should’ve woken me up, I’d’ve come, too.”

“I didn’t get you anything else for your birthday, so consider letting you sleep half the day away as my gift to you.” Isa gives Lea a wry smirk over his shoulder, which his boyfriend returns. It’s not even a half-decent lie; Isa got their reservation at the Bistrot _weeks_ ago, and even made arrangements for Roxas, Xion, and Naminé to stay the night with their friends so that they’d have the house to themselves, for once.

“ _Psh_ , would ya listen to this guy? ‘Half the day,’ it’s barely—” Lea peeks at the massive clock they’ve hung on the far wall, a gift from one of Naminé’s _very_ peculiar friends in Wonderland, “Ten o’clock!”

“As I said, half the day,” Isa retorts, calmly flipping one of the eggs as Naminé, who has been quietly drawing at the kitchen table all the while, softly giggles at their harmless bickering.

“Whatever, I know what’s up.” Lea wanders over to the counter, peering over Xion’s shoulder as she goes back to adding tiny sprigs of leafy greens, all of which Lea recognizes from his own garden. Dill, watercress, thyme, even some garlic sprouts— It warms Lea’s heart to know that he can share _this_ with his best friends, too, and not just the memories of their time in the Organization. “You’re just tryin’ to sneak some green stuff into breakfast. Ever heard of, oh, I dunno, apple turnovers?” Xion mock-glares at Lea, and he pokes her side gently as he teases, “Sticky pecan rolls?”

Xion’s laughing by the time Roxas joins them, glancing into the bowl suspiciously. “That’s what I want to know,” he says, picking out a nib of dill. “What even _is_ this stuff?”

“Vitamins,” Isa replies, tone smug as he turns off the stove and brings the eggs to the table. “And you’ll thank me, when you’re older and haven’t lost all your teeth to cavities, or had your growth stunted from excessive sugar consumption.”

Roxas rolls his eyes, and Lea has to hold onto the counter as sweet, saccharine memories spring to mind of him giving Isa the same look back when they were kids, whenever his best friend started in on one of his many, _many_ lectures. It’s been months, and Lea _still_ can’t believe this is his life; having all his closest friends together under the same roof, seeing the kids grow into themselves while he and Isa make up for lost time, reclaiming their _true_ selves along the way.

His eyes stinging, Lea swallows past the sudden lump in his throat and turns to Naminé, who’s shading around an assortment of flowers, all of them in varying shades of blue. “These’re pretty,” Lea says, ignoring Isa’s pointed snicker at how rough and choked-up his voice sounds. If that _punk_ thinks he’s gonna make fun of Lea on his _birthday_ , of all days—

“Oh! Do you like them?” Naminé asks, looking up at Lea with those big blue eyes Lea has never— _not once_ —been able to say ‘no’ to. (Which is a _problem_ , considering how _all_ his kids have ‘em.)

“Sure! ‘Course, I have no idea what they are,” Lea replies, bending down to get a closer look. Like all Radiant Garden schoolchildren, Lea and Isa had memorized hundreds—if not thousands—of different herbs and flowers, annuals and perennials, but with all their otherworldly galavanting there were still plenty of blooms he’d never seen before.

“Well, these are ‘Forget-Me-Not’s,” Naminé points to a single stalk dotted with small blue buds, “and this is Hyacinth. When they’re blue like this, it means sincerity,” she adds, tucking a wisp of blonde hair behind her ear with ink-stained fingers. “Do you think they look good together?”

“Are you kidding?! They— oh, sorry,” Lea says, as water drips from his hair onto Naminé’s picture. Isa gently pushes Lea away from the table, careful to avoid Naminé’s artwork as he and Xion begin plating the eggs, greens, and toasted hazelnuts.

“Lovely,” he murmurs to Naminé, who beams with pride—she doesn’t mind a couple stray water droplets. Still, “At least tie your hair back, if you haven’t the patience to finish drying it,” Isa says, playfully shoving Lea further back.

“Sir, yes sir,” Lea mocks, delighted by the embarrassed flush that spreads across Isa’s cheeks. He presses a quick kiss to that heated skin as he leaves, snickering to himself as both Xion and Roxas start to mercilessly tease his boyfriend:

“Oh, I didn’t know you had _dimples_ , Isa!”

“Wow, Isa! Your face is almost the same color as Axel’s hair!”

Lea’s still chuckling quietly as he rifles through his and Isa’s dresser and vanity, a disorganized mélange of earrings and eyeliners, receipts and photographs of them and the kids tucked between the wood and the antique mirror. Lea can _never_ keep track of hair ties, so he pulls open one of Isa’s drawers—

“He’s gotta have some stashed in here…”

—when he spots it.

Lea’s eyes are wide as saucers, his hands trembling slightly as he picks up the small box. It’s covered in crushed velvet, dark red and indescribably soft. A small sun motif has been stenciled into the lowermost corner; Lea runs his thumb across it tenderly, feeling the difference in texture as the pattern emblazons itself into his mind, his soul,  _his very heart._

“Lea?” He startles as Isa’s voice calls his name, nearly dropping the box in surprise. “Breakfast!” Xion adds, as Lea blinks and wetness blooms down his cheeks. He puts the box back where he found it, rubbing at his once-more stinging eyes with his other hand. His cheeks hurt from how widely he’s grinning, but Lea can’t find it in his heart— _in his heart—_ to care.

He catches his reflection out of the corner of his eye, and it amazes him. It’s been just short of a year, but Lea can hardly recognize the freckled guy grinning madly back at him, surrounded by pictures of his family, whose voices he can still hear calling him from the kitchen.

“Happy birthday,” he whispers, meeting his own green eyes in the mirror. This year, he thinks, might be his best yet.


	8. {Bonus: Tattoos/Piercings} Untitled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Post-KH3 LeaIsa + Sea Salt family, originally posted on Twitter, 5/28/20.)
> 
> I owe so much gratitude and appreciation to Hanna ([@Cisstress on Twitter](https://twitter.com/Cisstress)) for creating two beautiful works of art based on this ficlet:
> 
> Lea: <https://twitter.com/Cisstress/status/1269683222155341833>  
> Isa: <https://twitter.com/Cisstress/status/1273992806319689733>

“Lea’s in the garden.”

Isa’s barely stepped through the entryway when he hears Xion’s voice drifting towards him from the kitchen. The entire floor smells strongly of sweet vanilla and lemongrass. Isa takes a delicate sniff, yet even that triggers a burst of bright, sharp pain across the bridge of his nose. He fights the urge to rub the fresh wound there, and instead makes his way towards the kitchen, and the expansive shaded grove that lies beyond.

Roxas is washing dishes as fast as Xion’s dirtying them, while Naminé watches the controlled chaos with awe. Somehow, the younger key-bearers learned how to prepare world(s)-class cuisine, even as they slept within Sora’s heart. Despite Lea and Isa’s fretting about appearances and propriety, Xion and Roxas have insisted on preparing most, if not all, of their evening meals.

Thus, as he wanders past, Isa merely gives them a small nod and a quiet: “Smells wonderful.”

“Thank you,” Xion replies, glancing up from her mixing bowl. The pair lock eyes, and is it just Isa’s imagination, or have hers always tinted towards his own teal hue? “It looks nice, by the way.”

Isa blushes, and even though his bridge still stings, it’s a reassuring ache. It’s a reminder, of sorts.

* * *

The manor is old and decrepit. It belonged to a distant relative of Isa’s—an eccentric uncle and former general, whose battle experiences left him scarred in more ways than one. He had never met Isa in life, however in death he left them a home where before they had nothing.

“It’s a fixer-upper,” Lea had joked. It was autumn, right before the fall equinox, and Isa hadn’t seen so much dust and cobwebs in his life. “Just like us, right, Isa?”

Behind the estate lies a sprawling courtyard, whose stone paths are long-since cracked and overgrown. Most of the vegetation is wild, untouched for decades (if not longer) before they arrived. Lea tends to the wild growth, weeds and all, while Isa clears space for fresh chamomile and ginger, fig and echinacea.

Isa finds Lea sprawled on his stomach amidst the sunflowers and marigolds, shirtless, with his head pillowed in his outstretched arms. He’s gone freckled and bronzed in the sunlight, darker now than Isa can ever remember him from _before_. Isa is, as well.

Isa comes closer, off the broken, cobbled path and onto damp, mossy soil.

Now, he can see Lea’s wings.

* * *

_“It’s like a phoenix,” Lea explained as Isa carefully unwound the bandages plastered across his shoulders and upper back. “Y’know, the bird that bursts into flame, and is reborn from its own ashes?”_

_“I’m familiar with the phoenix legend, yes,” Isa replied, voice distracted as he marvelled over the detailed work and intricate lines, the bright colors that swept across Lea’s then-pallid skin. “A bit on the nose, don’t you think?”_

_Lea shrugged, then hissed as the gesture agitated the recently-tattooed skin._

_“Subtlety’s not really my style.”_

* * *

Lea stirs as soon as Isa touches him, tracing his fingers delicately across curving lines of fire and soot. An emerald eye peeks out from behind freckled skin and crimson strands as Lea releases a deep and tired sigh.

“S’it time to come in yet?” he murmurs, blinking sleepily. Idly, Isa wonders how long Lea’s been laying here, with naught but songbirds and the rustling leaves to keep him company.

“Not just yet.” Isa lowers himself until he’s on his side, stretched out next to Lea. He lets his fingers dip lower, until they reach the cragged scarring that mars Lea’s flank. The redhead sighs again, a quiet, contented sound.

“Didja have a nice day?” he asks.

“Better than some.”

* * *

_Poppies and dandelions bloom across Lea’s opposite flank. He got them over winter, their first since coming home, older, wearier, and covered in senseless scars. On the winter solstice, Lea gifted Isa a new pair of earrings, sapphire droplets ringed in moonstone._

_“The merchant told me they’ve got healing properties,” Lea said as Isa solemnly marvelled over the intricate design. “But I thought they looked nice. Hope you like ‘em.”_

_Isa has worn them ever since, as well as the peridot studs he picked out for himself when he decided, on a whim, to pierce his ears a second time. From there, it only seemed natural to ask Xion, Naminé, and finally Roxas to find a pair—which Isa paid for, of course. He added agate, crystal, and obsidian, all in a row, reminders of his found family._

* * *

“C’mere,” Lea beckons, and Isa goes without complaint, bending down to kiss his lover sweetly. Gently. _Reverently._ Their lips meet slowly and thoroughly, not heated so much as reassuring. Simply _being_ with one another, after so long without.

Lea’s tongue rasps across Isa’s lips, and his teeth nip at the small ring he finds. Lea _loves_ that one, as well as the bar Isa’s pierced through his nipple. Not everything has to be so serious, he had decided. It’s the same reason Lea inked himself with a small bar of sea-salt ice cream, right over his ankle.

They’re allowed to have things that are just for them, these days.

* * *

_The wort had yet to sprout when Lea came home with gauze behind both ears, protecting two small, reverse teardrops shaded in violet. And, the blackberries had already flowered when Isa added a plain gold band to their ring fingers. Even though it was neither tattooed onto their skin, nor pierced into their flesh, both wore them as if it were._

_Weeks passed, then months, as the pair added gems and dyes to their skin like a fresh layer of paint, or a tilled swath of earth. Lea craved the permanence of ink, marks that would never leave and never fade. The simple pleasure of changing out one set of jewelry for another, or going without altogether, lent Isa a greater sense of self-control._

_Their bodies were_ theirs _, again._

* * *

Time passes. Their kiss goes on and on, oddly chaste. Their hands wander, skimming across heated flesh—at some point, Isa had lost his shirt as well, although he can’t remember exactly when. One of Isa’s legs has found its way in-between Lea’s thighs, although it’s unmoving. More _presence_ than _arousal_. Simply being together is pleasurable, in its own right.

A voice—Roxas’s—calls for them from the house. Regrettably, the lovers pull apart, lips shiny and kiss-swollen. Their eyes meet, and slowly, a grin spreads across Lea’s face.

“Looks good,” he murmurs, fingers raised to trace the lowest corner of the scar that crosses Isa’s handsome face. He doesn’t dare touch the bar that Isa’s pierced through the bridge of his nose, right where the lines intersect. “What’s that color?” Lea asks, head tilted to the side. “Jade?”

“Emerald,” Isa replies, and Lea’s smile widens, even as tears form at the corners of his eyes, Isa’s favorite shade.

It’s a reminder, of sorts.

**Author's Note:**

> Each of these stories, individually and together, represent a significant labor of love. My deepest gratitude goes out to Ari ([@twitter](https://twitter.com/xigithy) & [xigithy on AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xigithy/pseuds/xigithy)), Robin ([@twitter](https://twitter.com/imnotanironwall) & [imnotanironwall on AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imnotanironwall)), and Haydar ([@twitter](https://twitter.com/salamisato_) & [salamisato on AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/salamisato/pseuds/salamisato)), as well as many others, for all the warm support and encouragement.
> 
> If you have a moment, please leave a comment or kudos here--or a like or reply on my twitter, [@radovanryn](https://twitter.com/radovanryn)\--to let me know (if) you enjoyed these stories! AO3 is no longer counting reader hits from non-registered users, and across the KH fandom there has been a big drop-off in feedback and support. So, while I am selfishly asking for a little love here and now (*wink*), I strongly encourage all of us to keep each other's spirits up! <3
> 
> Last, I am thrilled and humbled to be a contributor for [From the Ashes: an Axel/Lea Charity Fanzine](https://twitter.com/FromAshes_Zine), whose profits are going to support rural communities rebuilding in the aftermath of this year's devastating Australian bushfires. Pre-orders open July 1, so if you are a Lea/Axel fan of discerning taste who'd also like to support a worthwhile cause, I highly encourage you to visit the link above to learn more!


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